


The Last Chance (Old Men Do It Better)

by Jimbertforever



Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 00:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6930385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jimbertforever/pseuds/Jimbertforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not mine! Couldn't contact the author! Hope you enjoy the read ^_^</p></blockquote>





	The Last Chance (Old Men Do It Better)

I don’t know why I need to see him right now. The traffic is terrible, and so is my driving. I hate driving.

But I need to, I must see him. I dropped everything at the studio, demanded Jerry’s keys and jumped into his car. Robert must be on his farm now. I hope I will find him. I have no idea how long it will take me, and my mobile rests on my desk in the studio. I hope he will be there. I just... this tape. I should never...no, that wasn’t to be expected. Such a reaction...I mean, after all these years...we’ve grown – apart. He has his life, I’ve got mine. The things we shared, those incredible...nights, this intensity...no, I have never lived that before, nor afterwards. Yes, yes, he WAS the peak. He was the best. He was so... perfect.

Waugh! That was close! Maybe I shouldn’t drive at all...not when all this is running through my...left or right? Ah there, right.

Maureen. Yes, she was there, all the friggin’ time, looming somewhere, even if she wasn’t present. He really loved her. I FELT it. I FELT how he was sorry for every little contact he made with my skin. Oh how I...the accident...I ...was shocked, And...I had lost...He never believed that crap the press said, no he didn’t. But it wormed itself into his brains and he didn’t look at me anymore. As if it was us that had caused the accident.

As if it was me. IT WASN’T ME! And your son...I prayed! I swear I PRAYED to GOD! On my KNEES! But you never looked at me again. We talked, we laughed...how PHONEY! But everything had changed. Why – red again! I’ll never even make it out of London!

I still hoped. Then John died. And we died with him. And you left me. 

And silly me, I hoped every time we reunited. I was so excited when we played for Live Aid that I drank so much I almost fell off the stage. You looked at me like a stranger. I bled, Robert, I BLED! 

Then the Atlantic party. Your daughter’s birthday. My friend Robert. Friend!

I USED to be SO much more! Page and Plant was a hundred needles in my heart, EVERY SINGLE day! But you know what? Alcohol helps! I only have to drink enough and everything is OK. I am composed like any phoney politician. I can stand it. BUT NOT NOW! Now I’m too sober for my own good.

I have to see him. Those tapes...back in 1975...and you were singing that song...OUR song. You refuse to sing it now. It was the best song we’ve ever made, Robert, and you know it. You just don’t want to sing it anymore because we were in bed when you wrote the lyrics and I had the guitar with me and played you the tunes, and it was summer and we were so close...

Oh, here it is. Yes, this is the route. God, I don’t even know if he’s there. If nobody’s home I’ll just sit on the stairs until he comes or I’ll friggin’ die!

I need to see him. I’ve buried that need for so long, I’ve chewed on it and spit it out. I’ve blamed myself over and over again. I know I’m a sinner.

They say I traded my soul for success, and God forgive, me but I would have if I had been given a chance. I wallowed in this occult shit. It made me feel cool. Aloof. I was dealing with things other people didn’t even dare to think of, just as I was playing riffs other guitarists only dreamed of. I loved those little magick things you could apply to your everyday life. I tried a lot. Nothing ever happened to ME. Is this my punishment? I was a drug addict, too. I’m still an alcoholic.. I made love to girls who were merely kids. I felt so cool getting away with it. And they were really pretty, not scary like the ones you or Bonham...

So is this my purgatory? Are you my archangel? Have the past years that had to pass without you been the sword that went down on my neck? I’m not quite dead, Robert. And I will show you.

Wait, which exit was it? Ah, here. YES! Honk away! I know I should have indicated! What do I CARE!?

I need you, Robert. I don’t know...maybe it was meant to be...WE were meant to be. Or maybe we were a nasty twist of nature that needed to be cut down.

But why was it so wrong when it felt so right? Why can’t anyone replace the void you left?

Oh, there you go, I’m almost there. Just right behind those bushes...there are lights. He’s home...

 

\- - - -

 

Someone’s at the door at that time of night and when I open it there he is. I can only raise my eyebrows, and stare. An old man of almost 60 is standing at my doorstep, fidgeting as if he was still 19. God, Jimmy, get a grip!

“Good evening!” I say. I know I’m grinning. I’m so absorbed in  playing the good old friend that at first I don’t even notice that his being here at this hour is rather strange. That his fidgeting and his disarranged black hair scream of something that is obviously more than “Hello, I just came by!”. But then, I thought back to when our car crashed, when Karac died , when John died. Maybe Jimmy at 10 pm is just another catastrophe that I have to get over with. My grin is gone. “I believe you want to come in.” He hasn’t said a word yet. Those black eyes are burning.  I wonder if any good can come from asking him in, but it’s too late and I’m too tired and maybe I’m too old.

He slips in while I’m stepping back. I  have been avoiding contact ever since...ah, well, he knows the game, our play pretend. I lead him to the living room. It’s all cozy and warm, soft light is coming from the fireplace and some reading lamps. Everything is golden. As Jimmy steps in, it is as if the room is wounded by a nasty black gash. He is black. Only his white face is standing in stark contrast to the black coat, black shirt, black pants. I motion towards the brightly coloured sofa and he sits down, awkwardly, as if it could suddenly run away from underneath him.

I pour myself a cup of tea and offer him some. He shakes his head. Just as I wonder when he’s going to speak finally he opens his mouth. “Are you alone here?” This question doesn’t really take me by surprise. He, who always acts as if he could hear when a Chinese in Shanghai stirs his tea will certainly feel uneasy if my family is around. And I certainly feel uneasy with him and me being alone in this house. “Yes.” I answer, and he seems relieved, if not much.

Suddenly those eyes burn directly into mine. I can’t look away, and I don’t even try to. His face, strangely altered by time, with those slanted eyes, hard lines around the lips, puffed, pale, is the face I used to kiss. I know why he’s here.

“I still love you.” There, he said it. Blunt as usual. Amazing that he managed to spit it out. He holds me with his gaze, but I can see pure terror taking over. He has bared his neck to me. He knows that chances are I will bite him to death. This is his judgement. If I tell him to leave, that’d be it. I wonder if he’d manage to go on after I ‘d have given him the last blow. I can see that he thinks he couldn’t.  The long fingers are twitching, the mouth is a hard line. Time passes, and I can see how his energy is fading. In a few moments he’ll give up and leave. The eyes are starting to cloud. God, this guy is so insecure. When we met, it was me who was in awe. This dark figure, this guitar god, and me, the beginner, of course golden god to be, but I had no clue about that back then. But I’ve been through so much. I’ve lost so much. I look in the mirror and wonder why it doesn’t crack. But then I shrug it off, make a face and start fooling through my day. Maybe it’s the way we deal with things that makes your hands shake and mine hold a cup of tea rather elegantly. Or maybe you’re just scared shitless because nothing ever happened to you and you don’t know how it will affect you once fate strikes. I was immersed in dragon’s blood, Jimmy, and you only in Jack Daniels. If you get me you can lose me, don’t you know that? But I’m watching you now, this black spot on my sofa, and I feel that it is time you should get me.

“I love you too.” Simple as that. It is true. Has always been. All those years...had to pass. I am ready now. He is black, I am gold. He is darkness, I am sunlight. His head is slightly tilted  as if he was trying to catch a song that was played far away in the distance. Then his eyes blaze. He is on his feet, crosses the room like a black flash, he’s on his knees, grabbing my arms staring at me, his head falls in my lap and his shoulders shake. Slowly I put my arms around him and kiss his dark head. We stay like this.

 

\- - - -

 

„So how are we going to do it?“ Jimmy sat on the corner of the bed, clad only in his boxers. Robert lay stretched out on his side. He looked at Jimmy. “Why aren’t your boxers black?” he asked. Jimmy turned his head to look at him. “Is that all that is on your mind right now?” Robert just grinned. “Purple. Honestly, if I didn’t love you...” “Oh, shut up!” Jimmy made a face, but he was grinning too. Just how did Robert do it? Take his mind off things, if only for a few seconds

He cleared his throat and asked:”What is it going to be like? Are we going to keep it secret? Or do we kick our wives out and move into a gay quarter of London?” “I opt for the latter!” Robert was laughing. “Be SERIOUS for ONCE, god damn it, we HAVE to talk this over!” A hand on his shoulder. Just the touch made him calm down. “So you don’t have the feeling you can get away with anything anymore.” Robert said quietly. Jimmy gazed at him. Then, looking into his eyes, he answered:”No, I don’t. And I apologize.” He knew Robert was talking about their early years and the way Jimmy had taken risks when they had spent time together. Just not his own risks, but Robert’s. It had been Robert’s family that had been at stake, not his own, as he didn’t have any. No commitments for Jimmy. But that had changed.

“How would YOU like to handle it?”Robert asked softly. Jimmy looked at his fingers. Robert’s arm sneaked round his waist and his forehead rested against the naked back in front of him. Silence. Then Robert’s voice. “Since when have you had such a hairy back?” Jimmy made an odd sound. His shoulders shook and Robert lifted his head. Jimmy was shaking with silent laughter.“You’re impossible! Unbelievable!” He turned abruptly and faced Robert. “Perfect.” Robert ogled. “I don’t want to have to miss you. I don’t want to have to share you. I want to be with you whenever I feel like it.” Robert’s face was unmoving, yet the eyes sparkled. Jimmy just continued. “I want to live with you. Fight over every detail, like we always do. Argue over toilet paper and who has to go and buy it. I’ll live in a gay quarter, in a gay flat with walls painted in pink if it is with you.” His jaw set, he prepared to stare Robert down, but the other’s gaze had wandered to the window. After a long silence, Robert said: “You know, we are both going to lose a lot.” Jimmy flinched. “I know.” he whispered. And they both sat there in silence, while the morning dawned in the hills.

 

Jimmy was driving down the alley from Robert’s farmhouse. He was going pretty fast, but slower than he had come. His eyes were fixed on the street, as if totally focused on driving. He didn’t want to look to his left, where Robert sat in the passenger’s seat.

Robert was watching the landscape fly by through the side window. There were hills, dotted with groups of tress and bushes, a farm house here and there, very much like his own, which he had left for good.

They had been in the driveway. Jimmy had stood there, looking so lost, so uncertain, having to go back to London all alone, waiting for an answer, waiting for Robert to tell him that they would have to hide from public eye, from their wives, from the press for the rest of their lives. He didn’t know if Jimmy knew that he couldn’t have ever left him again. Maybe that fear had gnawed at him as well. At any rate, Robert just *had* to take him into his arms, and kiss him. It was the sound of a car door that had parted them. Jimmy had actually tried to jump back as if bitten by a snake. It had been Robert who had held him tight, despite the sad look his girlfriend had given him. Despite the tears she had shed. Despite the desperate, angry and reproachful things she had said. When he had remained all quiet, her anger had turned into resignation. “If you have nothing to say, get your things and leave.” He hadn’t pointed out that it was his house. He hadn’t packed everything he owned. He had just made sure he didn’t have to leave Jimmy alone in the driveway for too long. 

When the car had pulled out of the driveway, she had shouted one last thing from the window. “Don’t bother to call Jimena, *I* will do that for you.” Robert had watched Jimmy, who had merely flinched, but never said a word. He knew it hadn’t been a play-pretend relationship with Jimena, heck, neither had been his with his girlfriend. But Jimmy just remained as silent as Robert had in the driveway. It needn’t be said. The decision had been made. It had been deus ex machina.

But still they couldn’t look at each other. They were driving into a new life. Acknowledging each other at the moment would have meant acknowledging everything. It was too much. Once they got out of this car, they would have to face the consequences. The loss. Somehow Robert hoped Jimmy wasn’t going to stop too soon. Somehow Jimmy hoped he could forget about their destination.

 

When Jimmy pulled into the guarded studio’s parking lot behind the building, he almost wished Jimena had been there. He wished for it to be over. To be sorted out. He wished for the tears to be shed and gone, for the anger to be let out and disappear, for the hatred to be vent and spent.

But the only one who waited in the doorway was his co-producer Jerry. He turned off the engine and for a moment they sat there. No one wanted to take the next step. But then Robert sighed, grabbed his backpack and opened the car door. Jimmy watched him, and Robert, on his way out, turned around and their eyes met for the first time in a long while. 

Suddenly Jimmy felt tears run down his cheeks. Puzzled he raised his hand, wiping them off and staring at his hand. He wanted to stop crying, but the tears kept coming, and he felt his whole body shake and shudder. A hand touched his shoulder, another one drew him close, and he was in Robert’s arms again, and words wrung themselves from his mouth. “I’m sorry...I’m sorry...I’m so sorry...” Robert stroked his head. “Shhh,” he said. “Why are you sorry? ‘cause you love me? ‘cause we finally have to admit it? ‘cause we have to go through all this shit now?” Jimmy raised his head, and stared at Robert through a veil of tears. “I’m...I’m not sorry that I love you.” Robert grinned as he watched Jimmy sniffle. “Crybaby.” Jimmy grimaced. Robert laughed. “OK, so we have to go through shit. Fine. Let’s do it. There will be dry land on the other side of the dump.” Jimmy had to grin. “And think of all the sex we can have while we go through them bad times.” Jimmy snickered but tried to look offended. “Robert, how can you think of this now?” Robert laughed. “How can you think of this now!” he imitated Jimmy’s wailing voice. “How? Well, because I distinctly remember a certain Mr Page, 57, sitting on the cock of a certain Mr Plant, 52, last night and moving in the most wanton and sexy manner a man of his age could.” Jimmy blushed ferociously. “And the sounds you made: ‘Ohhhh, Robert, oooohhhh, yes, deeeeper, ooooohhh, ohohoh, uuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnn, Robert, yes, Robert, yes, Roooobert...” “Stop that!” Jimmy almost yelled, but he also hiccuped from laughter. “You’re a pretty hot senile fuck!” Robert added. Jimmy buried his head in his hands, but from the wrinkles at the side of his face Robert could see that he was grinning like an idiot. “Now what, a little prayer before we leave this goddamn car?” Jimmy raised his head, his face red and puffed. “No prayers.” he said. Then he opened his door and got out of the car, and Robert followed swiftly. The went up to Jerry who had a distinctively alarmed look on his face.

 

„I’m so glad you didn’t decide to come through the front entrance!“ Jerry said breathlessly. Jimmy and Robert gave each other a short look before Jimmy asked:”Why, what’s going on there?” Jerry grimaced. “A flock of reporters is going on, who want to know the details about your love affair.” Jerrry stared at their blank faces as if trying to read the truth out of them. “Pray tell, how did you get yourself into this mess? Who would want to harm you so much that they create such incredible rumours?” Robert smiled grimly, and Jimmy looked at his feet. “Some vengeful exwives-to-be?” he offered. Jerry’s jaw dropped. “But why – but how – but who – “ Jimmy had lifted his head again, his face determined. “Don’t worry, Jerry, we’ll sort it out. Just tell them we’re going to hold a press conference in 20 minutes. Show them into the lounge.” With that he stepped past the flabbergasted producer and into the building, followed by a smiling Robert. It was a proud smile.

They took a small stairway up into Jimmy’s office. “I need to make a phone call.” Jimmy said and it sounded very casual. Robert just nodded and turned to leave the room, when he felt a hand on his arm. “Please stay.” Robert looked up from the pale had to Jimmy’s tired face. “I witnessed yours, so please don’t leave me alone with mine.” Robert smiled sadly. “I won’t.” And he sat down heavily on one of the chairs around the desk. 

Jimmy dialled the number he knew by heart. It was Jimena who picked up the phone. “Hello.” he said, and after a short silence, Robert could hear a cascade of Portuguese and English pour from the receiver. Jimmy just waited until it subsided. When she was quiet, he just said: “I’m sorry.” Robert didn’t hear the answer, but Jimmy’s eyes filled with tears. He looked away, and tried his best not to panic. What if...what if she won him back? He told himself to trust Jimmy, but the knuckles of his right hand, balled into a fist and resting against his chin turned white. 

Then he heard Jimmy’s voice again. “Look, wouldn’t it be better if we met? But this is nothing you should discuss on the phone.” He paused. “Yes, I knew it all along. But I do love you. Just not like him. Yes, I know this is cruel, but it’s the only way. I’m not going to play games anymore. I don’t care what you want. Money, you can have it all. Just don’t try to hurt me. I know I hurt you, but I never wanted it. I’ll do my best to atone, but I won’t leave him.”

Robert realised his fist was wet. He was crying. Hell no, this Page was catching! He was turning into a crybaby as well. It was just that something had snapped inside of him. It had been something Jimmy had said. And for once, he let his tears flow, silently, on his fist, which slowly opened. 

“All right, I won’t call you again. You call me when you feel you can. Maybe we can meet *then*. We need to talk about some important things.” A pause again. “I know you called the press. Yes, they’re here. Too late to be sorry now, actually you have done us a favour. I know you love me. I love you too. No, not like him. I don’t know why. It has always been him, you know? Always. I tried to deny it, I swear, but I can’t. Yes. Yes, I will take care. You too. Thank you. Thank you for everything.” And he hung up

There stood Jimmy Page, his hand on the phone. He was crying, just like Robert Plant, who sat in a chair behind him, his face in his hand.

 

They had ended up in each other’s arms again. Jimmy had stood there, his arms hanging, shaking his head, tears running down his face, while Robert was practically biting his fist in the frantic attempt not to whine. Then Jimmy had come closer and Robert had gotten up, they had grabbed each other, like drowning men a life belt, and had ended up sitting on the floor, with their backs against the desk, arms tightly around each other.

Robert was the first to raise his head. Jimmy also lifted his and looked at him questioningly. Robert just kissed him. His big, friendly mouth softly touched Jimmy’s soft, puffy lips, and Jimmy sighed and leaned in, opening his mouth slightly, letting Robert’s tongue slip in, tasting his friend, feeling the softness, loving the tender touch, loving the way he tasted, and his head fell back and for a moment time stood still and all he felt was Robert, Robert, Robert.

The door was opened suddenly, but thy were tired, too tired to care, and only reluctantly stopped kissing to see who had come in. Jerry stood frozen in the doorway, making funny noises while looking like a fish at feeding time. Robert frowned, and Jimmy raised his eyebrows. “O my god!” Jerry finally uttered. “So it’s...you’re really...oh my god...” Jimmy put on his “I’m the big producer slash guitar god Jimmy Page so don’t get on my nerves” face and said: “You could’ve knocked.” Jerry sputtered and finally gaped. Robert snickered, and suddenly Jimmy had to grin as well. There it was, that feeling, that nothing can happen when he’s around, that everything is fine, everything’s safe. Together they were strong, together they could conquer the world. So whole

Jerry finally got a grip on himself and said: “The journalists are waiting in the lounge.” Jimmy nodded. “All right, tell them we will be there in a few minutes.” Jerry left fast and looked as if he was happy to have something to do.

 

The door fell shut and there they sat. Robert looked thoughtful. “So what do you want to say on that press conference?” Jimmy looked at him. “What do you think I will?” Robert studied the pattern of the faded rug they were sitting on. “You really want to proclaim our relationship?” Jimmy shifted.”*I* really want to. Now that it’s out in the open as a rumour, we can fight it or admit it. Both will be very hard, but I prefer being with you openly, and I think I said that before.” He stopped and then grimaced, and his voice was shaky when he continued. “And I certainly didn’t make that phone call to hide my feelings for you.” Robert seemed to think it all over, then he said: “But a *press conference*? Isn’t that a bit over the top?” Jimmy just shrugged. “I think it’s over the top that they’re here for two old, once admittedly very popular, now rather unimportant musicians, just because they’ve decided to spend their late years as a couple.” Robert had to smile at the “couple”. “Right,” he said,”if we were Brad Pitt and George Clooney...” Jimmy grinned. “Not quite!” he murmured. “Hey, I *was* a sex symbol!” Robert tried to pout. He looked like a worn out leather sofa. Jimmy pressed a kiss on the pursed lips. “You’re still mine.” he whispered. Robert smiled, a little sadly. “So what do you want me to say?” asked Jimmy. Robert smiled again, and this time it was one of those sexy smirks he used to give Jimmy onstage years ago. Jimmy grinned back, happily, feeling totally at ease with anything that might come. He was immersed in Robert’s trust, and he was going to show him that he deserved it

After the two elderly men had managed to get up from the floor again and Robert had made his comment about how they one day will break their hipbones during sex and how funny that was going to be for the paramedics, they headed for the lounge

Robert Plant and Jimmy Page walked down the hallway on the dark red carpet. They were almost the same height. Robert took his usual energetic steps, while Jimmy seemed to glide forward. Their age slowed them down a little. They took their time. But all the way down, their hands touched, all the way, their eyes were bright, all the way, their hearts were thumping. Somehow the future seemed to be right behind that door to the lounge.

 

The journalists were sitting in the lounge and looking at their watches. Most of them were from tabloids, one was sporting a “The Independent” logo and tried his best to look as if all this was beneath him. The MOJO journalist scribbled away on his notepad and hoped nobody was looking over his shoulder. It was his shopping list.

When, after anther 15 minutes, the promised “couple” didn’t show up, the Independent guy got up and knocked at the window to the adjourning office where Jerry sat, trying to become invisible. “Hey!” shouted the journalist, and his tired face showed his anger. “Where are they?” Jerry gulped, and finally rose to check. He stepped out in the hallway when he heard an engine on the parking lot. He ran to the window and managed to get a glimpse of the rear of Jimmy Page’s car, which left the parking lot at high speed. “No!” he wailed, wringing is hands. “Don’t leave me with them!” He spun round to see several angry journalists storm at him, pressed himself to the wall and almost inaudibly whimpered:”Oh no!” and resumed playing fish

  
Jimmy roared down the street, disregarding any speed limits, taking them to a road out of the city. “I think we’ll need to find a petrol station soon.” he said. Robert just looked at him, from the side, staring at this man who, right in front of the door of the lounge, had grabbed his arm, dragged him out of the studio building, practically pushed him into the car, got on the driver’s seat and sped them out of the parking lot as if the hounds of hell were right on their heels. Jimmy glanced at him, not wanting to take his eyes off the road, but almost hit a lamppost when he saw the big grin that was splitting Robert’s face. His eyes were almost invisible, Jimmy knew they were where the wrinkles formed those little vs. Suddenly it struck him once more how much he loved that man. He had always loved him. He’d always love him. Here he was, on a road into the countryside, and silently, secretly, and once and for all laying his whole being into the hands and soul of the man next to him

Robert thought his face was probably going to be sore from grinning the next day, but he couldn’t stop. He simply couldn’t. It was all too hilarious. He didn’t dare to look at Mr Page, sitting behind his steering wheel, holding it as if the strength of his grip was the only reason the car was moving forward. Mr Page. Mr Jimmy “complicated” Page. Robert had never liked puzzles or quizzes. With one exception. This man was touching him somewhere deep inside. As if he was only able to dive down from the surface on which he was bobbing up and down if this man swam up to him took him by his legs and showed him the wonders of the below. No, it wasn’t dark there, it was a colourful, serene place, just for them, just the two of them, a place he’d never dare to go to alone. With Jimmy, ageing didn’t matter. Loss and pain were things of the past. He opened the side window. Then he turned to Jimmy. “You know, I do feel a bit like in The Graduate!” Jimmy just shook his head, while his puffy cheeks turned his eyes into little slits. He laughed so hard that he almost missed the exit. “And poor Jerry is Mrs Robinson, or what?” Robert giggled and they pulled into a gas station.

 

When the evening came, they had reached their goal. “Are you sure it’s not taken now?” Robert asked, standing next to Jimmy who was leaning against the car. “Yes, there was an “available” sign down at the street.” Robert shook his head. “You drove us all the way here without the slightest clue whether it was taken until you saw that sign two minutes ago?” Jimmy smiled. “Sometimes you need to be a little daring, Robert. And there would have been a nice hotel in the village.” Robert muttered something about guitarists and their silly ideas, but he couldn't quite shake off the feeling that had enveloped them both (and he distinctly knew that Jimmy was feeling the same as he was). This feeling of coming home. This was Bron-Yr-Aur cottage.

 

They had fetched the keys from the owner. It had been a longer talk as Jimmy had inquired if the cottage was going well. The owner had just grimaced and Jimmy had smiled. Then they had started a fire and opened a few bottles of beer they had bought at the petrol station. Robert had chosen a selection of snacks as well and tried to feed Jimmy with crisps. “Open wide, one for Robert...” Jimmy’s stomach ached from laughing and from m&ms, toffee, peanuts and Heineken. The rug they were sitting on, once a proud bear fur, was now old and ragged, and became more and more littered with crisps that didn’t end up in Jimmy’s mouth, as Robert had decided that it was a really funny idea to try and throw food at Jimmy and Jimmy had to catch it. “Orally!” Robert said. “Orally! I know you prefer to use your fingers, but at least you’re on the receiving end, as you like it.” Jimmy threw a full pack of peanuts at Robert who just giggled. But then he noticed that the dark eyes had that certain glint in them.

“Oho, tiger!” Robert said and put on a feral grin. Jimmy tried a growl which sounded like a bad bronchitis. But Robert didn’t laugh for long as suddenly Jimmy pounced on him and knelt above him, studying his face for a moment, before diving down for a kiss, long, passionate, asking for more. Robert answered by grabbing that black shirt, crumpled from that long day and slowly opening the buttons. Then he grabbed the collar from behind and slid it of his shoulders. He let his hands glide up Jimmy’s back, smiling as he remembered the way it felt when they had been young. Jimmy was broader now, just a little, as he had lost weight recently. His long, lovely curls were gone. Yes, they had been so pretty, just like everything about him. Too pretty not to be kissed. Too pretty for a drunk Robert to resist. And so they had ended up in bed for the first time. Oh, had he felt guilty! What a mess they had gotten into! But Jimmy, oh Jimmy, he had always been on his mind.

They undressed each other, and lay there, in front of the fire. Its soft, golden light lay mercifully on the lines on their faces, on the rounds of their bellies, on the veins of their legs. They were like landscapes, wild and vast, ready to be explored. This was Morocco. This was Kashmir. And their kisses were hot like desert sand, and their touches like a soft breeze. Their hands wandered, their excitement rose, their lust exploded, and when Jimmy looked at the ceiling, lying on that rug, spent, tired, satisfied, he had to grab Robert’s hand, hold it, squeeze it, and Robert let him, smiling, kissing his head.

“I want to buy this place.” Jimmy’s voice was so low that even Robert, lying so close, his ear against those lips, could hardly understand it. He turned his head a little to throw a glance at Jimmy. “You want to hide from everyone and everything here? That won’t work.” A deep crease showed between Jimmy’s eyebrows. “Why not?” he asked stubbornly. “Because we would be at each other’s throat in no time if we lock ourselves in here, for instance?” Robert retorted and pressed his index finger on that deep crease. Jimmy grinned involuntarily but still glowered. “But if we leave we...” “We are going to have to go through some shit. We’ll have to bear a few silly looks, some stupid questions, maybe a bit of gay bashing, but that’s about it.” Jimmy had frowned at the “gay bashing” again, but Robert simply continued. “We can live our lives. You’d be the first to crumble if you couldn’t go back to producing again.” The frown vanished. “Hm.” Robert smiled.

“Let’s buy this place anyway.” “Huh?” Jimmy’s eyebrows almost touched his hairline. Robert grinned. “I’ve always liked this place, and I especially like this rug!” And with that he drew Jimmy into a tight embrace, kissing him deeply, lovingly, kissing all his fears away.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not mine! Couldn't contact the author! Hope you enjoy the read ^_^


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